The Diary of Hamlet: Prince of Denmark
by Tongan
Summary: Another English Assignment. We had to write the diary of a character in Shakespere's "Hamlet". Thus, I wrote about the prince himself, Hamlet


1.1  
  
1.2  
  
1.3 The Diary of Hamlet:  
  
1.4 Prince of Denmark  
  
  
  
1.4.1 Entry 1  
  
The word of the Almighty is one no mortal should defy, for his perfect immortal way is such, no man could defy it. Though on this night, the word of God has become as shallow and superficial as the marriage which my Mother has entered. The heavenly body of God, serene and omnipotent in his form, commanded that all worldly men 'honour thy Father and thy Mother', but this I find hard to contemplate. How does one honour the soul of a woman who does not honour herself? In marrying my Uncle, a foul, wretched waste of a man, my Mother not only gave the Devil her soul on a silver platter, she gave the memory of my Father to him as well. It hurts to look upon the grave of my Father; the sins of my Mother force their way forward to the forefront of my mind each time I lay my eyes upon his final resting place. And today is no different, for today the sins of my Mother and Uncle meet in the flesh as a holy vow of matrimony, sending my mind further into turmoil. Tears flow easily from my eyes as the pain which enriches my soul increases ever more. What must the world think of Denmark? What must the Lord think of Denmark?  
  
1.4.2 Entry Two - Two Months Later  
  
His memory still lingers, surrounding me like a river. In quiet solitude I live my life, knowing that his influence is all around me. How could he leave me in this position? How could he leave me alone? Now I must contend not only with the immense grief, but also with the rulings of my Uncle. He has barred me from returning toWittenberg to continue my studies, away from the hell, which taunts me here in Denmark. Fie on it! He is not even a fraction of the man my Father was. His blind ambition and incestuous lust for my Mother are the forefront of his concern. Never mind the nephew who is contemplating leaving this proverbial hell for good.  
  
Yes diary, I must confess: thoughts of self-slaughter have formed a barrage in my sub-conscious, turning it further against the hell which my life now is. If only the Lord did not look down on suicide with hate. I need to be freed from these shackles which crush my soul.  
  
1.4.3 Entry Three - Two weeks later  
  
1.4.4  
  
1.4.5 In my mind I had always thought it to be the truth. In my soul I felt it to be the truth and on this night with my own eyes, I saw it to be true. Prompted by my good friend Horatio, who had claimed he had seen a sprit like creature walking the courtyards of Elsinore in the form of my late father; I came to the Guard Platform upon the bewitching hour. What I saw froze my heart into glass then shattered it into a thousand pieces, for standing before me was the ghost of my Father. His pale, bleak appearance and vague figure struck hell into my being. He beckoned me to the battlements of Esinore Castle and against the cries and pleas of my companions, I followed. There the sprit spoke, his voice a mere fraction of the proud, leadership tone he once spoke in. But even so, his words did not deceive my ears. He spoke of a murder most horrid, filled to the brim with greed, lust and evil intent. He spoke of his murder at the hands of my Uncle. Compelled but not shocked by this revelation, I cried out for the heavens to dispose of Claudius and the evil which his greed had created. But this was not the Lord's will. My Father, seething in his purgatorial form, spoke of how only the revenge of his death can calm the evil seas which ravage Denmark's brim. A child cannot defy the orders of his Father and under this circumstance I could not bear to see him suffer any longer. I accepted his plea for revenge knowing that in my heart, this revenge will be the end of my earthly existence.  
  
1.4.6  
  
1.4.7 Entry Four  
  
1.4.8  
  
1.4.9 The pain of procrastination is eating away at my essence. The perfect situation to rid myself of this revenge arose tonight as the King kneeled down to pray. But no, did I act? Did I use this opening to complete the tasks I was assigned to? No, I became fearful of slaughtering a soul whilst it prayed for forgiveness. The fear of delivering the King into heaven while my Father burns a crimson red in the torment of eternal damnation was too much to bear, and I let the murderer free. Fie! Why has my Father's will not been implemented? Does the fear of failure rule my heart? Or do I not possess the qualities needed inside my soul to slay this incestuous demon? Either way, the task is becoming more intricate with every passing hour. I fear that my Uncle knows of my motives and is in the midst of preparing my slaughter. Though I shalt not be as ignorant to let him have the final say. Upon my return from England I will slay the demon, and rid myself of the torment which lives inside me.  
  
1.4.10  
  
1.4.11 Entry Five  
  
1.4.12  
  
1.4.13 Alas, my heart bleeds, not with the lust of revenge, but with the pain of the loss of a loved one. Upon my return to royal ground, I discovered a diminutive procession of people. My Mother, with a stern face of a woman who was undoubtedly in pain, Laetres, tear ridden, and clearly melancholy and my Uncle, with no expression upon his grotesque face at all. I appeared before them. The King's face turned a ghost-like white, but my attention was deferred from him for a brief moment as I gazed into a shallow grave to see my loved one, Ophelia, pale from the loss of her life. I can still see her face now. Her eyes were shut away, her hands cupped together; it brings fear into my soul like none I have ever felt before. Laetres and I exchanged glances; his pain was ripped across his face like a wound. He began to yell profanity echoed from his mouth, blaming me for the death of his Father leading to Ophelia's suicide. His reasoning was like a dagger tearing at my throat. He claimed I didn't love Ophelia but nothing could be further from the truth. She was to be my wife, and now she lies solemnly alone on un-consecrated ground, her soul lying in the depths of hell. A victim of the evil portrayed by my Uncle, the King. Ophelia, I promise you, your death need not come in vain for come Wednesday I shall rid Denmark of her unholy ruler and complete my revenge. For Wednesday is to hold a fencing joust between myself and Laetres which the King will attend. In my heart I know that day will be my last, but my soul be not afraid knowing that in the sight of my revenge comes vengeance for my lost Ophelia.  
  
1.4.14  
  
To this mortal world, I bid adieu, adieu, adieu. 


End file.
